In His Absence
by Taka Momos
Summary: Roxas has nothing to do but wait -- wait for Axel to return from his current assignment. His job as a Special Forces Communication Officer takes him all over the world into all kinds of danger. All he can do is hope -- that he'll get to say goodbye again.


He clenched the fabric of the tightly-fitted shirt in his fists as he buried his face into the taller man's chest, desperately blinking back the tears burning in his eyes.

"Why?" His voice was tired, straining to whine out the simple word. Long arms wrapped around the shorter one's shoulders as the redhead bent over, nuzzling his face into the crook of the other's neck. A warm breath blew over the shell of the blond's ear as he whispered.

_I promise_.

_**In His Absence**_

Taka Momos

Roxas busied himself with folding the freshly washed laundry, only idly listening to the television he'd turned up significantly louder than necessary. He found himself biting his lip every time he came across one of his shirts. It took everything he had in him not to hold it and close and break down – again. He was only halfway finished with folding when he decided to stop – he wasn't sure he could keep going.

He knew Axel wouldn't want him to be sad, but he couldn't help. Every time he was gone, he found himself either crying, worrying, or both. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat, he'd found out that he couldn't even watch the news – every news report being just another possibility.

And maybe it wouldn't worry him so much if he knew where his asshole was being sent, though at times he had found that not knowing was easier. All he really knew was that Axel's job involved an evenly blended mix of intelligence gathering, infiltration, observation, and sabotage – he was the intelligence officer of a "top secret special forces team".

That's all Axel would tell him. That it was "top secret". It was Axel's way of saying he was assigned to monitor foreign "situations" for the government. Roxas knew he did it on purpose – the cornier he could make his job sound, the less he thought his little blond would worry. Yeah, not worry – what was there to worry about? That he would get compromised? Shot? Killed? All in some rogue nation he couldn't even find on a map by men with names he couldn't pronounce?

_Yeah – not worry._

Dumbass.

And maybe Roxas would mention how much it worried him if Axel didn't love it so much. Something about clandestine operations and super high-tech techno-shit made the redhead's eyes light up. And Roxas had to admit – Axel did look _good_ decked out in his gear.

Roxas threw himself onto the couch, grabbing the remote and searching for something that would get his mind off of his lover. He usually left it on comedy shows and sitcoms, but the station it was on had slipped into mid-day soaps, which meant it was time to turn on game shows. Axel sometimes tried to get him involved with the military wives on the base where they lived, but he didn't quite fit in – he was younger, male, and Axel was only deployed for days rather than months.

It didn't help that the wives usually mistook him for being Axel's younger brother or cousin – and he preferred it that way. On top of the "don't ask, don't tell" policy, there was the fact that he wasn't readily interested in being the base's hottest piece of gossip. He still didn't like that they assumed to know him. So he kept to himself.

Waiting for the door to open.

_Watching._

He reached over and grabbed the pillow he kept on the couch, holding it close as he felt his lids drifting shut. Another impromptu midday nap. He squeezed it tighter, breathing in the familiar scent.

Of Axel's pillow.

_Of Axel._

---

It was a little past two when he woke up. He had already gotten used to the feelings of awkwardness at being able to gauge the time according to the television programming. It was almost a hobby – most of his routines had become hobbies. Seeing how long he could wash clothes, make food, stare out windows, even clean without thinking of his asshole redhead.

The record was an hour.

He rubbed his eyes as he got up, making his way into the small kitchen. It was barely a house, more of a high-end trailer. Technically it _was_ a trailer – a mobile home. A bathroom, a bedroom, a living room, and a patio, with a small kitchen area sectioned off out of the living room.

He walked into the kitchen, a sinking feeling overcoming him as he stared at the empty, sterile room. It was never this lonely when Axel was home – he was always concocting something new. Stews with anything he could find in the refrigerator, interesting additions to rice...

Not the instant noodles he would probably make. His bare feet hit the cold floor as he grabbed at one of the familiar packages; not hard to find at all in the mostly-empty kitchen. Whenever Axel left, Roxas found himself in complete disarray. Axel knew where everything was, he knew how the kitchen was organized. Roxas had simple rules about the kitchen – never touch the oven, never cook anything that can catch fire, never attempt a recipe that calls for any kind of oils, never... do anything that wasn't prepared by adding water and putting in the microwave.

He put the bowl into the microwave, walking back to the couch while it was being heated. He grabbed the phone as he passed when it began ringing.

"Hello?"

"_Heya, Roxie!"_ His breath caught in his throat at the familiar voice – almost lost behind a cloud of static He tried his best to blink away the familiar stinging in his eyes, grasping for any attempt at a conversation.

"Hey. Are you... alright?"

"_Yeah, yeah – just wanted to call and tell you I'm heading home soon."_

_Soon._

"Do you know when?"

_  
"When what? We're heading home tonight, not sure when we'll actually get there though. Listen, Roxie, I just wanted to make sure you're all right. When I left you seemed kind of... weird?"_

"I'm fine."

"_No, you –"_

"I'll _be_ fine."

"_..." _Silence was all he could hear from the other end as he fought back the worries.

"Just get your ass home, alright?" He heard a familiar chuckle behind a choke of static, but heard the words his redhead spoke loud and clear.

"_Love you, Roxas."_ His heart throbbed in his chest painfully, a warmth spreading through his body.

"Love you too, Axel."

The line clicked off after a whine of noise.

---

He woke from a night's restless, anxious sleep to the sound of knocking. He fought through a sleepy haze on his way to the door, trying to find his orientation.

Axel wouldn't need to knock. It might be one of the neighborhood wives – probably. They were annoying enough to wake him up at... eight in the morning, according to the clock. The sunshine burned his eyes as he opened the door. Through his groaning and squinting, he made out the figure of a man dressed in military formal – large and intimidating, though Roxas found few things intimidating when he was pissy. This man wasn't one of those things.

"What?" he ground out, sleep adding a hoarseness to his voice. He leaned his head against the door frame, only half-listening to what the man was saying while he drifted back and forth between consciousness.

"... Axel's plane was shot down over the Baltic. He's... we've come to take you to see him."

He could feel the anxiety begin to set in slowly, though he tried to sink back into sleep – back into unconsciousness – in an attempt to numb the pain. Finally, after he'd tried his best, pain gripped his chest as his breath left his body. He swayed slightly, before finally opening his – burned by the sunlight that was distorted by the tears, now pouring from his eyes.

His voice was broken, shattered by fatigue and emotion.

"_He's dead?"_


End file.
